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Randy of the River: The Adventures of a Young Deckhand, a fiction by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 15. Randy As A Deckhand |
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_ CHAPTER XV. RANDY AS A DECKHAND When Mr. Andrew Shalley came in he was full of business. He nodded pleasantly to Randy. "I will see you in a little while," he said, and turned to his clerk. Then Bart Sandwood was sent off on an errand and the steamboat owner turned to look over some letters that had come in. "Now I am at liberty," he said, pleasantly, shaking hands. "Are you ready for work?" "Yes, sir," answered Randy, promptly. "Good! Have you ever been on a large river steamer?" "No, Mr. Shalley, but I am willing to do all I possibly can to make myself truly useful." "Well, if I am any judge of character, you'll get along. All you've got to do is to keep your eyes open and obey orders. We have one old deckhand, Pat Malloy. He will teach you what to do." "When can I go to work?" "The boat will be along down the river soon. I'll take you on board, as I want to see the captain. As soon as you are settled I'll have you fitted out with a uniform." "How much will that cost me?" "In your case it won't cost anything." "You are very kind." "Remember, I take a personal interest in you, Randy, and I want to see you get along. Do your duty and rest assured I shall not forget you." "I don't think I'll disappoint you, Mr. Shalley." Randy waited around the office until it was almost time for the steamboat to make a landing. Then he went down to the dock with his newly-found friend. Here were a number of passengers, and also a quantity of baggage and freight. Presently the _Helen Shalley_ hove into sight, with flags flying bravely in the breeze. As Randy had been told, she was not a particularly large steamboat, but she was well proportioned and graceful, and well liked by those who patronized her. We will get better acquainted with the craft as our story proceeds. As soon as a landing was made, Mr. Shalley went on board, taking Randy with him. Captain Hadley was at hand. "So this is the new deckhand, eh?" said the captain, in bluff tones. "Pretty strong, are you?" "I think so," answered Randy, respectfully. "Well, you'll have to be, to stand this work. Know anything about handling trunks and such stuff?" "Not a great deal, but I think I can learn." "We are shorthanded, so you can jump right in," went on the captain of the steamboat. "Yes, sir. Who will tell me what to do?" "Pat Malloy. He is the head man of the gang. Here, Malloy," he called out. "Aye, aye, sur," answered a brawny and jolly-looking Irishman, coming forward and touching his cap. "Here's your new hand." Pat Malloy looked at Randy in some astonishment. Our hero was neatly dressed and did not look as if he was used to hard labor. "Sure an' it's only a boy," murmured the head deckhand. "He says he can work. Give him a chance," put in Andrew Shalley. There was plenty to do, and Randy threw off his coat, took off his collar and tie, and pitched in. The labor was by no means easy, and he had not the trick of throwing up a trunk to the best advantage, yet he did very well, and Pat Malloy nodded approvingly. "Sure, an' ye do better nor some o' thim foreigners already," he declared. "Kape it up an' we'll git along foine together." Captain Hadley and Andrew Shalley watched the work for several minutes, and then walked to the cabin of the steamboat. Here the owner of the boat told something about Randy. "I want you to give him a chance even if he is a bit green," said he. "I want the lad to get along." "He shall have all the chance possible," answered Captain Hadley. "I am glad to get a hand who is intelligent." Then the two conversed upon private matters until the boat was ready to leave Nyack. "Good-by, my boy!" cried Mr. Shalley, on leaving. "Take good care of yourself, and let me know how you get along." "Thank you, I will," answered our hero. "It may be hard work at first, but you'll get used to it." "I am not afraid of hard work." "The captain will give you a uniform in a few days." The gangplanks were hauled in, the lines cast off, and with a hoarse whistle the _Helen Shalley_ continued on her course down the Hudson. There was a small Italian band on board, consisting of two violins, a harp and a clarionet, and they struck up a popular air. The work at the dock had somewhat exhausted Randy, who was not used to handling such heavy stuff so quickly, but he took pains to conceal his feelings. "I am not going to back down, no matter how hard the work is," he told himself. "Others can do it and so can I." Among the deckhands was a tall, limber American man named Jones. He came up to Randy after the work was done. "Malloy told me to show you around the boat and give you some pointers," said Jones. "Come ahead." They passed from one end of the steamboat to the other, through all of the three decks, and Jones named over the various parts and told what the deckhands were expected to do. Then they went below and he told of some work there. Lastly he took Randy to the sleeping quarters. "This is my bunk," said Jack Jones. "That will be yours over there. When you get the chance, I'll advise you to air your bedding. You can do it after we tie up in New York and the passengers go ashore." The quarters were small, but not any smaller than Randy's garret apartment in the cottage. Everything was kept as clean as wax, for both Malloy and Jones were enemies to dirt. Randy was glad to learn this and resolved to give the others no cause for complaint regarding his own personal habits. "Some boats are very dirty and the bunks not fit for a dog to sleep in," said Jack Jones. "But Malloy won't allow it on this boat, and I won't have it either." "And I am with you," answered our hero. "Came from a farm, didn't you?" "Yes, but our family wasn't on the farm long." "I came from a farm myself." "How long have you been on this boat?" "Came the middle of last season." "Do you like it?" "If I didn't I shouldn't be here." "I suppose that is so." "Captain Hadley is a fine man to work for. He is strict but fair, and that is what I like." "What about the others?" "The mate, Tom Blossom, is nice, too. The man we all hate is Peter Polk, the purser." "What's the matter with him?" "Well, between you and me, I think he is a sneak." "In what way?" "He is always making trouble for somebody. Nobody seems to like him much, although he attends strictly to business." "I hope I don't have trouble with Mr. Polk." "Well, you will have to watch yourself." Several other landings were made, and promptly at the appointed time the _Helen Shalley_ swung into her dock at New York City and the remaining passengers went ashore. Then began the labor of unloading the baggage and freight, after which the deck was swabbed up, the brass-work polished, and such baggage as was at hand taken on board for transportation up the river the next day. When he had finished his day's labors Randy was tired and perfectly willing to rest for a while. He had had a good supper and might have gone directly to bed, but instead he sat up to write a letter to the folks at home, telling his father and mother of his day's experience. Our hero had to go ashore to post the communication, and once out in the street he resolved to take a little walk around before returning to the steamboat. He was soon walking along West Street, and then took to a side street running up to the avenues. Now, although our hero did not know it, he had chosen one of the worst streets in this part of the great city. It was filled with tenements and groggeries of the lowest description, and the sidewalks swarmed with all sorts of low characters. He had scarcely walked two squares before a rough-looking fellow jostled him. The next instant Randy felt a hand in his pocket. "Stop that!" cried Randy. But the fellow was already running up the street. Our hero clapped his hand in the pocket and discovered that eighty cents in change was missing. "I am not going to lose that money!" he told himself, with vigor. "I may be a greeny, but I'll give that thief some trouble." At first he thought to cry out, but then reconsidered the matter and remained silent. He set off after the thief, and away went man and boy along the crowded thoroughfare. The man evidently thought he could lose himself in the crowd, but by the aid of the street lights, Randy kept him in sight. He passed along for two blocks and then turned into a side street and then into a blind alley. Our hero managed to keep him in view and saw him spring up the steps of a dilapidated tenement house. The man ran through the lower hallway and into the back yard, piled high with rubbish of all kinds. Here he hid behind some empty boxes. Randy was soon in the yard and gazing around eagerly. As he did so he saw a thin and pale girl of about ten standing near. Soon she came up to him timidly. "Did you see a man run in here?" said Randy. "Yes," she answered, but in a hesitating voice. "Where did he go?" "I don't dare tell you," whispered the girl. "Why not?" "That is Bill Hosker." "And who is Bill Hosker?" "Don't you know him?" And the little girl's eyes opened in astonishment. "No, I don't." "Bill Hosker is the boss around here. He does just as he pleases. If anybody crosses him Bill 'most kills them." "Oh, he's a bully, is that it?" "Yes." "Well, where did he go?" "You won't tell him I told you?" "No." "He crawled in behind those boxes," answered the little girl and then ran away. Randy waited to hear no more, but made a dash for the boxes. As he did so, the fellow who had robbed him leaped up, club in hand. "Go out of here!" he cried, in a hoarse voice. "I don't want anything to do with a kid like you." "You give me my money," answered Randy, vigorously. "I am not going to let the like of you rob me." "Ho! ho! Hear the kid talk! Go away, before I maul ye!" And Bill Hosker brandished his club. But our hero was not to be daunted thus readily, and looking around he espied a stick and picked it up. Then he advanced upon Bill Hosker, who promptly leaped to the top of a big packing case. The next instant he came down upon Randy, bearing him to the ground. Our hero tried to defend himself, but it was useless. He was crushed beneath that heavy weight, and then the rascal gave him a crack on the head that stretched him senseless. _ |
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